Good for saving the day in sales, getting someone to call you, making an impression at a job interview, getting that raise or promotion, and making one hell of an exit.
You were probably reeling from all the things I’ve told you, all the superpowers you secretly possess, and all the things you need to do to use them to get what you want in life. Not to mention that I just blew apart the whole “go for the close” ethos of traditional selling in about six thousand words. Mind blown? Well, hang in there because we’re almost at the end. There’s one more thing to share before you can go out and save the world.
In England, there was always respect for what we called the “barrow boys,” the lads down at the street market who worked all day selling fruit and vegetables. We knew it was hard work. If you had the gift of the gab, if you had the balls to get up there and pitch, day after day, rain or shine, you were kind of revered in your community. These were the funny guys, the guys who made out at school. They were the Artful Dodgers of our world.
If you ever read or watched Oliver Twist, there was something about the Artful Dodger that everyone liked, even though you knew he was up to no good. He was cheerful, smart, had guts, and could charm a lady right out of her corset. You wanted him to succeed. What I liked about pitching was that it had this nostalgic, Britannic mystique about it. Nobody really knew what went on behind the curtains. It was a secret underworld.
But it was a hard life then, and it’s still hard today. It’s like being part of a band of gypsies: get up in the morning, drive to the location where you set up your stand, set up, go to work talking and persuading all day long. You’re in a different town every day, like a traveling circus, but you work with the same people. There’s a camaraderie around it. The pitchmen are one of the reasons why people go to the markets. You might go down to get your fruit and vegetables, but the reason you’d want to go is because of the hilarious, ballsy, “hang it all out there” guy selling slicers or potato peelers. Everybody loves a daredevil—if he survives.
When I realized I could do it, I loved being the center of that world. The success of the market hinged on the five or six pitchers out of a hundred vendors. The pitch joints were the ones that would draw the crowds, stop the crowds, and give people a reason to go to the market in the first place. Even if you ended up buying a car wash, a slicer, or whatever the hell some fast talker was selling, you didn’t mind because the guy made you laugh. People got sucked in.
My dad was the worst. There was a guy selling these cheap vegetable slicers that didn’t even work, but was great at pitching. I warned my dad, “Don’t stand next to him.” But he did. He said to me, “He’s brilliant, this guy. He cuts the tomatoes, and he cuts the cucumbers, and he turns the potatoes into french fries in like two seconds.” He bought one and we never used it. But that’s the power of the pitch.
Why do people let themselves get sucked in? Fear of missing out, mostly. They also like having someone else in control, and like being mesmerized and dazzled. They like the sleight of hand. The great pitchmen have incredible hand motions because they’ve practiced for thousands of hours. Everything is designed to look effortless: pick up that potato while making constant eye contact, put it in the slicer (not even looking at the blade that will cut your fingers off if you don’t pay attention), and out fall french fries by the bucketful. The great ones are able to deliver a perfect pitch blindfolded, freeing them to stare right into the other person’s soul while they’re pitching. It’s theatrics, eye contact, hand movements, the voice, drama, and humor. It’s all there. The best pitchmen have all of it.
But the best of the best understand that in their hearts, people want to be tricked just a little, and they use that to make closing offers that are impossible to refuse. When I was working in Cardiff, Wales, I saw this guy (I don’t remember his name) who had a thing called the Blind Box. He would pull up in a big eighteen-wheel truck, roll the side down, and it would be filled with whatever he was selling that day. If it was Christmastime, it was full of toys that he would auction. But what really blew my mind was the Blind Box.
He would pile up fifty boxes on the stage. You had no idea what was in them, and he would run his spiel: “It’s a gift; it’s not a cold cup of tea or a pork sandwich. It’s not a villa in the south of France. What’s in this box is a genuine gift. I can’t tell you what’s in the box, but here’s the deal. If you buy this box, you cannot open this box here today. You have to wait until you get it home. If you do open the box and you look inside it and you’re delighted with what you see, and the person next to you asks what’s in the box, tell them to mind their own bloody business and buy their own box.”
It was one of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen: the irresistible offer but with nothing behind it but air and intrigue. This guy would sell these boxes for a pound each, fifty of them, right there and then. Nobody had any idea what was in them, but they would happily part with their money because he had made a promise. You didn’t even care what was in the box because you wanted to be part of the select few who got one. You got ripped off for a pound, but he made fifty quid. I always found it absolutely stunning that fifty people would go for it. I used to sit there in amazement and watch this guy sell fifty boxes. It was a big dog and pony show.
When he got to fifty, he would tell people to hold their boxes up, but not to open them, and people would do it. I never found out what was in the Blind Box. To this day, I still have no idea. In part, it’s the mystery that’s fun: the ability of the pitching superhero to bend people to his will—not only effortlessly, but to make them smile while doing it!
The Blind Box is all about the ability to finish strong, often with an offer that the other person can’t refuse. If you don’t have an offer, then it’s about closing your pitch by making an impression that makes the other person remember you when he or she forgets everybody else. The Blind Box did both. Punters bought the box because of the allure of the unknown, the offer they couldn’t resist. And some of them were so enamored of the mystery that they took it home and years later have still never opened it. I’m serious. That pitchman with his big rig and boxes is still mesmerizing those people years later.
When I talk about closing strong, I’m not talking closing like you close a sale. But I am talking about wrapping up your pitch in a way that compels the other person to act, even if they don’t act until a week after you walk out that door. I’m talking about making an impression, or as we call this final Pitch Power…
In psychology, there’s a concept called the peak-end rule. It says that we judge an experience largely on two factors: how we feel at its most intense point (the peak) and how we feel at its conclusion. I can’t speak for other parts of life or business, but in pitching, the peak-end rule is 100 percent right. You want to be at your best at the most intense part of the negotiation, meeting, or date, and at the end when you say farewell and exit stage left. Those are the parts of your pitch that will do the heavy lifting in persuading people to give you what you want.
Finishing with confidence isn’t about asking for the sale, either. It’s about ending with a flourish, something that makes the other person want to know more. It’s Sully’s version of the “when to leave the party” rule: better to leave a party too soon and have people saying, “I wish she was still here” than too late, so they’re muttering, “She’s so boring, I wish she would go home.”
For our final lesson in Pitch Powers, I’m going to tell you how to make the kind of exit that sells, compels, and rings the right bells.
Finishing strong doesn’t just mean you end your presentation or speech with something memorable. Often, it means that by making a can’t-miss offer or claim, you can end the pitch then and there—force the other party to decide, then and there. That’s power.
When I first came to America in 1992, I was already a seasoned pitchman in London. But I came into contact with Jon Nokes, an expat who had moved to California, who saw something in me. I really wanted to pitch in America, so I said, “I’ll come over. I’ll pay my way. You do not have to pay me. I’ll show up in LA with a smile on my face.” He hired me to pitch at the Los Angeles County Fair, and I flew to California.
By offering to work for free and pay my way, I made it impossible for him to say no. I was going to be there. I wanted to work for him. He didn’t have to pay me a salary because I was on commission only. He literally had nothing to lose. Already, he was impressed that I was twenty-two years old, and prepared to drop everything in England and travel across an ocean to a place where I didn’t know a soul and sell mops with no guarantees. I made myself indispensable and attractive because I knew I could do it.
I’ll spare you the details of setting up shop at the Antelope Valley Fair in the city of Lancaster, about an hour north of LA, where it was 115 degrees in the shade, with smog and desert wind that wouldn’t quit. I’d never been so hot in my life. It was a miserable, back-breaking experience. Jon was testing me to see if I had the stamina to play in the big leagues, and I did. I actually made the Los Angeles Times after someone came out and interviewed me.
That story highlights one of the most potent parts of this Pitch Power: the “wow” offer. Offering to work for free, giving someone something special, or providing something that will solve a problem on the spot is an incredible way to build your credibility and set yourself apart from everyone else. Another variation of the “I’ll work for free” gambit is something freelancers use: the free preview. If you want to land a desirable new writing, design, or consulting client, you say, “Tell you what, I believe so strongly in what I can do for you that I’ll do a small initial project for nothing—no fee, no commitment. You don’t love it, you keep it and you don’t owe me a dime.”
Who could turn that down? Of course, you have to attach conditions to that kind of thing or you’ll end up bankrupting yourself with free work. But I’ve used that trick to entice new clients like HSN to my commercial production shop, and it works. By offering something free, you remove the risk. You also project massive confidence. Why would you risk hours and hours of unpaid work if you weren’t sure you could deliver quality?
In a sales situation, the “wow” offer can also be a free giveaway item, anything from a sleeve of golf balls to a product sample. If you’re a teacher trying to win over a classroom, you can give the students a free period to read or relax. If you’re trying to convince someone to have dinner with you, one gambit might be saying, “I’ll be having dinner at the Café Orléans next Friday at nine. If you show up and join me, I’ll buy you a marvelous dinner. If you show up and don’t wish to join me, I’ll still buy your dinner. And if you don’t join me because you show up with a date, I’ll buy your dinner and his.” Talk about confidence and élan!
Another time I used the “wow” offer to my advantage led to my big break as a producer and director. It was 1998, and I had been on-air talent for a long time, but I wanted to be a producer because I knew it would be more lucrative and open doors to more products. The problem was, it was pre-Internet and I had little to nothing to show for my new production company—no tools, no clips, no contacts, no reel. I took a page out of Robert Rodriguez’s book, Rebel without a Crew, and made up business cards that read ANTHONY SULLIVAN with the word PRODUCER printed under my name. I was a self-proclaimed producer… who had never produced anything! I still had no equipment or experience and hadn’t made any commercials. Everyone I pitched on my “production company” pretty much laughed at me.
Then I talked to AJ Khubani, the founder of Telebrands (the “As Seen on TV” company) and the godfather of the infomercial. AJ intimidated a lot of people, but I figured if anyone would give me a break, it would be him. At the time, AJ had a product called the Rotato, a rotating vegetable peeler, and he approached me about appearing in a commercial for it that was being produced by someone else. I had been selling the Rotato on HSN and had been successful as the live pitchman, but while I’d been in several commercials, I had never liked the writing because it just didn’t sound like me. The writers that were hired to write the scripts just didn’t get it. They had never actually sold anything.
I took a deep breath and told AJ, “Here’s the deal. I’ll be in the commercial, but I want to write it, produce it, direct it, edit it, and star in it. And I’ll do it all for $50,000.” He was so blown away by my enthusiasm that he wrote me a check on the spot! The first independent Sullivan Productions commercial was for the Rotato, and it was a hit. That was my big break. I went into Telebrands with guns blazing, refusing to take no for an answer. I had never directed, produced, or edited anything in my life and I punched way above my weight because I said, “I’m going to do this.” That commercial is why I’m producing today. That pitch changed my life. I went from pitchman to producer in five minutes!
Twenty years later, I’ve produced hundreds of commercials for AJ and Telebrands and we have one of the greatest working relationships and friendships that one could wish for.
Apart from an offer they can’t refuse, there are five additional elements to this Pitch Power:
1. Appear not to need what you’re pitching for. This is a next-level skill, because you’ve got to project the sense that you’re not desperate. If things don’t go as you’d like them to, you’ll move on to the next thing, no worries. At the same time, you can’t appear indifferent to the situation. One really effective way to do this is to be extremely candid in what you say. Don’t be rude or obnoxious, but do not pull punches. In talking to an attractive stranger, be honest. Directness and candor suggest confidence and that you’re not too worried about the outcome.
I saw one pitchman do something like this. His name was Andy Gilbert, he sold watches, and his pitch was a bit of a con. He would get his joint set up in markets, and then go, “Ladies and gentlemen, I don’t need your money!” It took balls. In the market world, that’s blasphemy. Then he doubled down on it.
He’d say, “In fact, I’m going to give £10 to the first person who can raise their hand, on the count of three!” I was sitting there, watching, thinking, Where’s he going with this? Then he’d pull a £10 note from a massive wad of money in his pocket and wave it in the air. “I’ll give £10 to the first lady who can raise her hand on the count of three!” Now he had everyone’s attention and had ballyed a huge tip. He’d count, “One! Two!” But he wouldn’t do three. He’d mess with people:
“You were cheating.”
“Stop picking your nose.”
Meanwhile, everyone was laughing and more people were coming over seeing the hands in the air. Finally, he’d go, “One! Two! Three!” and a hundred hands would shoot up. It was impossible to pick who was first. So he would pick one woman and say, “Lady, you’re the winner. Come on over here.” When she went over, he would ask, “Are you a good girl? Are you a good girl? Are you a good girl? Come here, are you a good girl?” Over and over again. Meanwhile, she and everyone else would be laughing hysterically. He’d ask the crowd, “Ladies and gentlemen, is she a good girl?” Then he would ask her husband or boyfriend the same.
Finally, she’d reply, “Yeah. I’m a good girl.” At that, he would tuck the £10 note back in his pocket, say, “Good girls don’t take money from strange men,” and carry on. Everyone laughed at the joke, and nobody ever got upset.
By telling them he didn’t need their money and then even offering to give them money, he gained his audience’s trust and entertained them to boot. Andy also sold a lot of watches.
2. Make yourself invaluable. Say you’re interviewing for a job or meeting with a potential client. You research their company, find that they’ve been having trouble filling a key finance position, and before you leave the meeting, you hand the person in charge a list of three highly qualified candidates as a suggestion. You’ve shown initiative, the ability to find information, and the desire to be a resource. Drop the mic on your way out.
When you can show the person across from you that you can solve problems, get things done, or do what no one else can—during your pitch—you make yourself extremely attractive and hard to turn down. You can be a source of valuable information, a connection to important people, or someone who comes up with a solution to a tough problem on the spot. It’s even better if you do it with aplomb, a sort of effortless “no big deal” attitude. That says, You need me; I do this every day. I am an assassin.
3. Make an exit. When you’re done with your pitch, how you leave the stage is as important as how you entered. First, have a closing line that you rehearse, so you don’t stammer or hesitate. If it includes a call to action (“I hope to hear from you next week”), so much the better. Map out your exit route with your eyes so that when you get up from your chair you can walk out in a single, fluid motion. If you haven’t handed out a business card yet, flash one or more quickly and seamlessly from the pocket you planned to keep them in.
Shake hands with the most important person first, making eye contact with everyone. Succinctly tell whoever you’ve been speaking to how wonderful it was to meet them, and confidently stride out. Try walking out the door backwards; it lets you maintain eye contact and control of the situation. If someone opens the door for you, thank them. Even better, if someone moves to open the door for you, open it for them instead. Boss move.
Mustn’t-do moves for an exit: apologizing for anything you said or did (it projects weakness), offering the person a gift (which can be seen as ass-kissing), and trying to deliver a witty closing line as you exit (those almost always land with a thud).
4. State why you want this. Too many people go into any kind of pitching or persuasion situation hopeful, but not confident. That’s the wrong attitude. You need to be clear about why you want what you’re after. That’s not the same as being entitled to something; none of us is entitled to a damned thing. Be assertive, be calm, but be direct. Let’s say you’re pitching for a raise:
“Boss, I really feel that I deserve a raise. I am committed to the company. I really love working here. I want you to know that I am going to continue to grow the bottom line. I love being part of the team and I’m not asking for a lot. If you could increase my wages by 5 percent, I would be absolutely delighted. I’d also like to have my health insurance covered.” Tell them what you want. Don’t leave it open ended or be coy.
Also, make it all positive. You may intend to leave your job if you don’t get your raise, but don’t tell your boss that. No one responds to threats. Instead, make them realize that you are a valuable asset: “I’ll take on new responsibilities. I am happy to work more hours.” That won’t guarantee a yes, but it makes it hard to say no.
5. Be patient. Despite all this, you won’t always see the fruits of your confident close right away. In fact, most of the time you will need to wait—and expecting that can often work in your favor. If you state your case, make your offer, and effect a slick exit without expecting anything more, people can’t help but be impressed. Give them time to absorb what you said and did, time to meet with others who make you look even better, and time to think. Make sure they know how to reach you, and bide your time. If you pitched well, results will come.
In pitching (and this is true of most ventures in life), confidence really is everything. If you’re able to project that elusive sense that you are in every possible way the shit, and the other person is daft if they don’t cast/date/buy from you, you become infinitely more persuasive. But it’s one thing for me to tell you, “Hey, pal, be confident.” It’s another thing entirely for you to possess the kind of confidence I’m talking about. Sure, confidence on the joint or in any other persuasion situation comes through years of doing: making mistakes, trying stuff out, and sheer repetition. But you don’t want to wait ten years to have superpowers; you’d like to be able to do something amazing now. Right?
Fair enough. When it comes to finishing with confidence, become a triathlete. That perplexed look that just crossed your face tells me I need to explain, so I will. As I write this, I’m trying to gain entry into the 2017 Ironman World Championships in Kailua-Kona, Hawaii. If you know anything about the triathlon, you know that’s the holy land of the sport, where the Ironman was invented. For a long-distance triathlete, “going to Kona” is like making the pilgrimage to Mecca for a Muslim: something you plan for your whole life. But it’s not easy to get into the race. There are only so many slots for amateur “age groupers” like me, and the main ways in are winning a certain qualifying race or a lottery system. Right now, I’m trying everything I can to get a slot, but here’s the thing. I have to train for the race—140.6 miles of swimming, biking, and running—no matter what, so that if I get in, I’m ready.
That means I have to do the right things without worrying about results, day after day—and that, my friend, is the key to finishing the pitch with confidence. For me, training has to be about the training, about getting stronger and faster and fitter, because I have no idea if I’ll get into Kona. The training becomes the reward, and if I keep that mindset and I do get in, I’ll be ready to finish. If I don’t… well, then I’m fit enough to do another Ironman distance race that will qualify me for Kona in 2018.
Adopt the same attitude in your efforts to persuade people to give you what you want and you’ll be successful. Delivering a spectacular pitch should become the point, not the results. Do your preparation, control the situation, breach that force field with your humor, turn your mistakes into gold—and don’t worry about what happens. The pitch itself, when you do it right, is pure joy. You become an actor at center stage when the lines flow through you, a singer when every note lands. It feels awesome, and when your only goal is to put forth a fine-tuned, funny, commanding pitch that feels good to you, you will finish confidently.
The pitch makes you confident, because you know you can do something most people can’t. You can stand up in front of one person or ten or five hundred without fear, deliver strong words and gestures and ideas and offers without fear, and move them to take action. That’s what presidents and great leaders do. When you know you can do it, and doing it is enough, that’s… man, that’s a superpower.
And sure, you want to get the job, get the sale, get the girl or guy. You might even need to in order to make a living and pay your rent. I understand. But train your mind not to think about the result, only the pitch. Make it honest and compelling and perfect. Care about nothing else, then walk away. Trust me, if you can do that, you’ll leave people gasping in your wake, wondering, Who in the hell was that? Not all of them will buy or hire you, but none of them will remain unmoved. That kind of mic-dropping finale works really well in these specific situations:
• Acting. Whether you’re auditioning or actually doing the part, thinking only about your performance and not worrying about the audience will make you better. When you’re acting only for yourself, you’ll make bolder choices without fearing what the people watching will think.
• Speaking. Deliver your speech for yourself, not your audience. You can’t control how they will react, so don’t try. If you speak honestly and in a way that reflects your passion and commitment, they’ll feel it, and they’ll respond in kind.
• Dating. You know all about the effects of desperation, right? It’s a killer whether you’re out for a quick hookup or a long-term relationship. No one’s interested in somebody with that “D” scarlet letter on their forehead, but everybody’s interested in the guy or gal who doesn’t seem to need anyone, is totally self-possessed, and has it all going on. Confidence is everything in the dating scene.
Do what feels right and act like outcomes don’t matter, and they won’t. Not because they don’t matter, but because more of them will go your way.
One of the most important parts of finishing with confidence is knowing when to shut up. You must develop a sense of when the pitch is over. Because when it’s done, it’s done, even if you’re not done, and you have to calibrate your rhythms to say what you need to say before the other person shows signs of tuning out.
But there is a time to stop pitching, period. Billy Mays was a very different person when he wasn’t pitching. When we were on a plane, for instance, you would never know he was there unless he wanted you to. We’d have a beer and a low-key chat and that was it. He was super quiet. When he decided to go for the jugular vein, everything changed; Billy would turn you upside down and shake the money out of you. But he knew when to shut it off.
Some people never develop that instinct, and not knowing when to finish can really undermine you. There’s a woman at HSN who sells a fitness product, and she’s really talented, but she can’t turn it off. She’s pitching 24/7. I’ve sat next to her on Southwest Airlines flights and she’ll be pitching the people seated next to her. You see their faces; they’re in hell. Of course she sells some, because people buy to shut her up.
Ending your pitch with confidence means you’ve left the other person wanting more. You will never do that if you insist on getting through every bit of what you have to say—or worse, waiting until they look at their watch. Develop your instinct for knowing when it’s time to shut up, say, “I think it’s time I shut up,” and shut up. That’s your mic drop. You’re done. Fold your hands in your lap and wait. If they want you to say more, you’ll know.
Pitching is basic. It’s human communication with all the social media bullshit stripped away. It’s not science. The bottom line is, if you’re going to approach this with the kind of overpowering confidence that will get you across the finish line, you have to love it. You have to really, really love talking to people, making them laugh, touching them, and solving their problems, even for a second. That means you have to get past your fear. I can teach a timid cash register person at Publix, who’s so petrified that she can barely bag groceries and talk to a customer, how to pitch. Give me six weeks with that girl and I’ll have her out on the front lines at a home show selling like a pro. Why? Because once she sees that she can do it, she’ll fall in love with being able to do it—with the power of doing it.
Finishing with confidence so you don’t need to close anyone means becoming someone else. Once you experience the buzz, you want more and you fall in love with it. You become someone more poised and more self-aware of how your body and voice and actions affect others. You get a sense of your own power to get what you want, and when you do that, you can’t help but be confident and love pitching. We all have it. Harness it and use it.
Think about the last time you watched a great bartender at work. He’s having a great time because he’s killing it—and he’s killing it because he’s having a great time. The enjoyment has to come first. You need to enjoy what you’re doing. If you’re the bartender and you’re back there thinking, How do I get bigger tips? you’re going to come across as manipulative. If you’re really enjoying what you’re doing, the tips always follow.
At a real bar—not a sports bar or restaurant, but a pub—what’s the bartender doing half the time? He’s not making drinks. He’s cracking jokes. Chatting people up. Asking questions. Giving the regulars shit. “Hey, Bill, how’s it going? How’s your wife and my kids?” That sort of thing. It makes you smile even to be on the edge of that, because it’s authentic human connection. And yeah, the patrons buy drinks and tip the barman and all’s well, but they don’t do it because he’s trying to get them to tip. He’s pitching them, and they don’t know it, and the bartender might not even know it. But he’s connecting, making them laugh, breaching the force field of new patrons—doing the whole thing. And he loves it. So they love it.
Confidence begets love begets confidence, but it starts with getting out there, doing it, and realizing, I can pitch people and not die. Awesome.
It requires work. You have to hustle. You’ve got to be into it. You’re not going to do anything if you’re sitting on your ass. But it’s worth the effort. You’ll become a more confident person, earn more money, and have a better life. You’ll be happier, not only because you’re getting the results you want but because you went out and got them. Too many people wait for life to come to them; pitching is about going out and grabbing what you want.
Get out there. Give away orange slices, twirl a sign, hand out flyers, tend bar. Find some way to reach across the terrifying empty space between you and other people: tell a joke, make them smile, and connect.
Practice. Practice, practice, practice.
Know your acceptable outcomes, and if you don’t hit any of them, come up with new ones. I didn’t know what I was doing in the beginning, and neither will you.
Get online and watch legends like Ron Popeil and Billy Mays do their thing. If you’re having trouble getting to sleep, watch yours truly sell steamers or mops or OxiClean. You’ll be out in seconds.
Go to home shows and markets and butcher what you can.
Find mentors like great salespeople who’ll share what they know.
Join Toastmasters and learn how to deliver a speech even though your knees are trembling, you’re sweating buckets, and your heart feels like it’s about to pound right through your chest.
You can do this. You can pitch.
Now, go do it.
SCENARIOS FOR USING THE “FINISH WITH CONFIDENCE” PITCH POWER
Q: You’re finished with your pitch and you’re about to make the perfect exit when the party you’re pitching stops you and wants to ask more questions. Make an excuse and end things or sit back down?
Q: You start to see the signs that you’re losing your audience—fidgeting, checking the watch—but you know you can wow them with the last part of your pitch. Keep going or hit eject?
A: It doesn’t matter how great your close is if the audience is looking longingly at the exits. Wrap it up, even acknowledge that they might be looking a little bored—remember, self-deprecation is a powerful tool—and let them know you’re more interested in their welfare, not hearing yourself jabber.
Q: You make a mistake in your exit—heading for the wrong door, dropping your business cards, that sort of thing. Do you own it and make fun of yourself or just get out of there as soon as you can?
A: You should know this by now: own it and make fun of yourself. The more you can laugh at yourself, the more they’ll laugh with you, like you, and want to give you a chance.